Gothic Granola

If a recipe has a superlative adjective in the title, I raise my eyebrows.  Calling something the "best," "last you'll ever need," "fudgiest," etc., is a matter of opinion. Crustuli delectamentissimus sunt. That photo couldn't be more staged if I tried (and I tried to take a neat photo for once!).

 I found this recipe years ago (2010) soon after becoming vegan. I brought home some agave nectar from the Whole Earth Center in Princeton since I had switched to natural and vegan sweeteners. The picture on the source website looks nothing like the finished product. Although, I suppose if you used the full 1/2 cup of canola oil, the cookies would spread. Did I mention I was also hypersensitive (mentally) about using too much fat in recipes in 2010, too?

These peanut butter oatmeal protein balls have been taking over the interwebs. I put my own twist on the recipes found in Dr. Phoenyx's Instagram and Gimme Some Oven .  

I don't like pants. I don't like to wear pants that cover my calves. Simply do not like the feeling of cloth on my shins, particularly in the less-sensitive spots (voluntarily wearing short pants in single-degree temperatures growing up did that).  Leggings don't count as pants since they're borderline between tights and pants, and I like tights/stockings/knee highs/socks in general. The temperature has been hovering in the single digits Fahrenheit. I must be getting old because I rolled down my pants to go for a walk on Thursday.

If you have known and corresponded with me for any length of time, at some point you will receive a picture of a written page instead of a typed message. In the case of my dear friend KJC, I sent her fourteen-page letters composed over several days and Metro rides last fall, pretty much every week. Writing is more efficient for me than typing, though I type faster than I write. Not all efficiency is speed, however. Writing with pen and paper satisfies me physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally more than typing (though there of course are times where my graphomania requires digital paper and ink, and much of it). Nay, while I may seem to undergo Luddite fits in which I shun technology, generally I am amenable to the shiny devices (phone, compy, iPad, iPod, camera) and the connectivity they provide. I just make them work for me.

This morning as I ran to the farmers market, I noticed my freshly-loaded iPod shuffle was set on alphabetical sort by song title. Yeh, I didn’t think “Amame” followed “All Because of You.” I prefer to listen to albums in whole chunks with the songs in the artist’s intended order. Having the device on shuffle versus loop would make little difference. I could react in a few ways: 1)     Stay pissed off and complain about it. Take out earbuds in disgust. 2)     Accept it and see how the experience of random alphabetical order sounds. 3)     Change it!

Or in this case, apricot.

This recipe has been on my recipe bucket list for over a year. Ownie Mom has had this recipe in her pile of recipes to make for about the same amount of time. She beat me to the punch—or roll, in this case—on New Year’s Eve by making these for brunch.